My Ren-like self

I was teaching about the classes of chordates and the mudskipper had an appearance in our text book. When it became clear that my students didn't know about the mudskipper, I quickly jumped on my secret youtube, get around the school privacy pages, access, and found this: (it's totally worth the next 5 minutes of your life)

My students were literally falling out of their seats laughing as the males foolishly fought, sighing and pointing as the little baby appeared, and gasping in aw when the males transported oxygen to the egg chamber. It was a beautiful moment in teaching, when, without any preplanning, everything falls into place. At the end of class my students left saying, "the mudskipper is my NEW FAVORITE animal!"

I spent the rest of the day thinking about the mudskipper and, therefore, Ren and Stimpy. It's been years, like 24 of them, since I watched Ren and Stimpy, but watch I sure did. I remember the Muddy Mudskipper Show and decided that I should youtube it.

I had little luck finding the part of the show about Muddy, but I did find this:

AND I realized, oh my god, I am Ren. 

Daily I say things like this:

"WHAT? You don't have your homework again? Do I need to stab you with a pencil and make you bleed and form a scar so that when you get home you will remember that you have homework?"

"Do that again and I will come over there and cut out your tongue with these dirty scissors that I cut the sheep heart with."

"I don't have an icepick, but I could give you a transorbital lobotomy with this pencil."

"If I pinch you really hard on the back of the arm, will you associate your inappropriate behavior with pain and like a Pavlovian response, know that bad behavior = pinch = pain?"

Ashamed, you should feel ashamed

I just got my property tax bill in the mail. I knew that it was in my mortgage payment, but I still felt a little hesitant to open the statement, thinking that it would be in the thousands; my prediction was $4000. It's been a while since I owned a house. What do I know?

So I opened the bill and for the year my property tax is - you ready for this- $808 freaking dollars. WHAT?? Then on the statement was a notice saying that 59% of property taxes goes to our public school district. So what you're trying to tell me is that out of the entire year of property tax, $476 dollars goes to public education??? And people are complaining??

Now granted, I do live in a little house in a ghetto neighborhood, but it's what I can afford and I'm assuming that those people who choose to live in big houses in the ritz can afford that luxury and the higher rate in taxes.

So I was thinking. Ok, so you have one kid and a house. For 180 days a year, from approximately 8 am to 3 pm (some parents drop their kids off at 7 am, I know, I am there, and kids stay after, so I'm rounding to 7 hours, even though you know it's more like 8-9), your child is in a reasonably safe and secure environment, not only being watched after, but actually educated, by educated people, with college degrees, professionals? Let me get this straight... you are getting full service on your kid. Care, protection, and an academic environment, not to mention character education, bullying prevention, homework help during my lunch and after school, all that for $2.64 per DAY!  A half a latte? At 0.38 cents per hour and my 28 students in a class, that is less than 11 buck per hour per teacher. But you see, we make more than that, so where does the money come from? How are we supposed to pay qualified professionals, update technology and provide a positive learning environment for your kid? You'll spend $5 on a freaking coffee, but you're complaining about the cost of taxes that support your child's school?

Now, just think about the families with multiple children.

I don't even have kids, but guess what... actually, I think John Green says it best:

It's non-stop up here, people, non-stop

There is a ping pong game inside my skull, but instead of the usual one ball, there are 100 balls, all battling for space, hitting my neurons, stimulating, crushing, it's an ADHD festival up there.

Have you noticed that the relationship between the amount of Christmas decorations and a person's income is inverse?

I'm still baffled at putting a dead tree inside a house. I mean, who was the first person to say, HEY, you guys, I think we should cut down a tree and bring it inside, BUT let's not just stop there, let's put a bunch of lights and crap on it.

My neighbors have pretty lights.

Two dogs is so freaking awesome.

I am still shocked that people don't think like I do.

Global warming means that instead of heading into the next ice age, we are heading in an increased warming phase. I don't want to head into an ice age...

My new colleague it a victim filled martyr. You can imagine how that's going.

I think Alaska is to blame, this time

The temperature could triple and it would still be below freezing. Yes, I'm bitching. 

It's hard enough to feel human when it's dark at 5 pm, but couple that with an arctic blast and one turns to ridiculous activities, like cooking. 

Cooking has always been classified as a waste of time in my master book of classification. All that effort, ingredients, and the food may or may not be decent and the voila, several hours later it all gets flushed. 

Today, in the inhuman cold, I chose to make some baked ziti. I'd been thinking about this for a few weeks and had some ingredients, like natural Italian sausage, mushrooms, zucchini, spinach, and of course sauce, noodles and well, I always have loads of cheese. So what that the recipe called for spices and herbs, I don't supply those types of things, you know, items that give food taste.  

So I mixed it all together, baked for a while and here's what I got ...

Eleven bland meals. (I ate one before the packaging began)

Now, my other flaw is that I'm a super cheap ass and I invested a bunch of money, time and food items shall not go to waste, so I will force every one of these bland meals down my own throat. 

Watch out kids, your teacher is going to be a bit crabby after lunch. 

Simmering faster

I'm pretty sure that it's not normal that I've already started thinking about my next job...

How do you remain human when it's pitch dark at 5:00 pm?

Why am I so saddened at the election results?

Freedom

The contentment of aging is miraculous. I was having dinner with a former student who is headed to her first year of college and understandably nervous. Our conversation brought me back to life as a younger person and the worries that accompanied me. I shared how being 42 is a bit horrifying and I have no idea how it happened so fast, but what I love the most is not caring so much. No obsessing about what other people think, but being content. Comfortable. It's freeing.

Then she reaches for her phone, searches for a bit, and shows me this image...

Are you coming, where are you?

There's something about having friends who are always late. The thing that, I suppose, bugs me the most is that I know who they are and how late they often are, and yet I am not only still ALWAYS ontime, but I am my usual 5 minutes early. You'd think that an early arriver would have the gift of patience, but, nope, no patience here, just pure frustration and wonderment of why I still make plans with people that choose to be on their own schedule without consideration. 

I................... don't

Episode 4 of blind date hell is going to be the last for a while. The main character is going on a 5 week hiatus and has deleted her online dating app.

I'm case you missed it, not only was there no sparks in any of the episodes, but instead pure awkwardness. No, that's not entirely true, episode 3 had some promising moments but in part 2 he made it clear that he wasn't looking for friends and that's about all the vine I was getting. I didn't see any romance popping up, so that was that. 

Is it too late for my family to set me up in an arranged relationship? 

'Hood life, part 1

The thing about living in the 'hood is that the laughter/play screaming of kids is followed by a foul mouthed mother, and I use the word "mother" lightly, yelling in her rasping cigarette stained scratched up voice for the kids to shut the eff up and stop this, don't do that, get out, you are an idiot.

I sit on my back porch and wonder what chance the kids will ever have when they are barked at all day by a trashy person that just so happened to have given birth to them. I send positive vibes in their direction, willing the kids to seek solice in school and become readers and problem solvers that don't just want to spew out a bunch of offspring but want to, if they so desire, raise a kid, bring them up, not down. 

I feel like an old lady sitting back there. I suppose I am. 

Is there a medication for this?

I'm in a state of home buyers paralysis. My 1/3 of an acre lot has, more than likely, seen better days, and I have no idea where to start. The 134 feet of chain link fence, just on the west side of the lot is ghetto-fabulous, not that the neighborhood itself is remotely as nice as my little abode.

What to do, what to do, what to do. So many what to do's, that all I've accomplished is sitting on my back porch reading - hence, the paralysis.

I should feel elated. I now own my 4th house, I mean I don't currently have 4 houses, but in my lifetime I've been owner or part owner of 3 other houses... this is not new, and yet, it's new. It's kind of like when you first get married and everyone tells you how amazing the honeymoon period is and all you can think is, WTF, this isn't amazing at all, I'm just kind of annoyed. That's how I feel. I think I should be in the bliss of honeymoondom, and yet, I'm freaking out, in a state of shock and panic.

Shrubs, vines, bamboo lining on the chain link? What? And, a better question is who is going to fund this little expedition that I've decided to go on?

Oh, and how do I get my dog to stop her incessant barking?

This ain't no place for tact

My school district is full swing into this pay for performance thing. I had my final evaluation last week, which consisted of two peer observations, two administration observations and then I guess just rumors and gossip. We have rubric online that we have to fill out about ourselves and then the admin fills out their perspective and you meet and discuss. One of the categories is "professionalism", which includes things like working in teams, collaborating with other staff and families, extensions outside the classroom. I rated myself confidently and had evidence to back it up, and as the discussion came to team work, my admin pointed out that I wasn't very tactful. I know you are shocked, that you were thinking how amazingly tolerant and tactful I am, yes, it's true...
My response... what the hell, dude, tact? That is what you are worried about? We are in an emergency 911 situation here. Our school is more like a mental facility than a school. The clock is ticking and it's ticking fast, ain't nobody got time for tact. Now can we get on with this meeting.

Woe is me

Since we last spoke the messages I've received on this free dating site are from 25 year olds or YOUNGER. Seriously. One kid said that he wishes there were more cougars like me. Ok, but I suffer from ageism, so cougar, I am not. The other kid said that we were basically the same age, just switch the numbers. To add more excitement to this dreary message, I just got a message from a 25 year old girl.

Lesson? Maybe I should start robbing the cradle? Could I sit across from a kid that could actually be my son and not laugh hysterically? I think not.

It can't be THAT bad...

So, Saturday morning I got a message from a guy, let's call him Lester, on this online dating site that I've signed up for. It's a free site, and beggars can't be choosy, but he seemed like a decent enough guy. My age, mentioned geology and in a text asked me if I knew what a baculite is. Um, yes, ok, this looks promising. His online photos are of him in road bike spandex gear, which is weird, but at least he cares about himself, right? He also listed himself as 6'4" and for a short, wimpy girl I sure am obsessed with height.

We texted a few times and the inevitable, can I have you phone number comes up, so we exchanged numbers and set up a "date" for that evening. I'm really picky about how far I'll drive for anything, so when he suggested a bar within walking distance to my house I was pleasantly surprised.

I called my mother and told her that I was going out with a stranger and that if I didn't call to wish her a Happy Mother's Day that he actually is a serial killer and to send someone to get Fresa.

In the 20 minutes it took me to shower and gussy up I started feeling that sick to your stomach, what am I doing, feeling. Just being a silly old lady, I suppose, so I mustered up the guts and walked down.

Apparently Lester was just finishing up a business meeting, so when I walked up he was sitting with another guy, let's call the friend Carl. I knew that I wasn't attracted to Lester from his photos, but you never know, right? You can't judge a book by it's cover?

I should have judged a book by it's cover.

Well, I sat down on the same side of the booth as Lester and across from Carl, who btw, was much more "my type" than he was, but I digress.

So Lester tells Carl to fill me in on their meeting and Carl starts to drone on and on about starting a company that makes miniature plastic toys for adults. Kind of like train set stuff, but with other themes. WHAT?? What the hell? What grown up wants miniature toys? My eyes started to glaze over and to avoid falling out of the booth I made the mistake of asking my "date" what his role was.

MISTAKE, for Lester began his soliloquy of his interest in WWII airplanes and before you know it he was showing me old airplane pictures on his phone. Describing the paint jobs, who flew them, detailing me on the missions...

In my head I was already scheming on how to get out of there. What the hell. Hi, nice to meet you, now let me talk on and on about shit that NO GIRL would ever care about. Huh, no wonder, right? I suppose the same could be said for me...

As the weirdness of having a 3rd person was becoming more obvious, he says to Carl, hey about that other thing we talked about, I'll take you up on it. So Carl takes out his wallet and gives him 40 bucks. I must have had a inquisitive look because he then proceeds to tell a long drawn out story about loosing his ATM and not having any money for our "date".

His friend left and I went to the other side of the booth and that's when I was fully immersed in hell.

He proceeds to tell me a story of exchanging phone numbers with a girl and her finding his address and just showing up at his house. Yeah, don't think I came right home and reverse searched myself.

The conversation was awkward and creepy and only getting worse. Adding fuel to the flame, the waitress never ever came to the table, not in 40 minutes, so I stretched out my arms, and said, "well, since I'm apparently not getting a drink, I'm going to leave." He sucked back and said, "your leaving???"

"Yes" I said. "Nothing that you've said interests me. Good luck on your project, but I am not interested in it."

Then I left...

Protect your pennies

It's a Sunday of a three day weekend and I should be procrastinating, but I have so much school shit on my to do list that I decided to use this fine, warm afternoon to do a little grading. I've been working on projectiles with my kids. First time I've actually taught this topic so it's been fun and challenging, both qualities that I enjoy. Over the past 8 days we have done several labs observing projectiles in motion, watched mythbusters, some youtube clips and practiced our new knowledge with a series of stations that assessed both the math skills and the theory behind projectile motion (of course 2-D motion, these are freshman). One of the main skills is knowing that if you ignore air resistance, a projectile launched, and a projectile dropped from the same height will hit the ground at the same time. No shit. Jaime and Adam did the bullet fired vs. bullet dropped mythbusters and it's freaking awesome. So over the 8 days, we've done some cool crap.

Friday I gave a little quiz to see how the kids were coming along... Sounds like a good teacher idea, until you think about who is going to grade all those little quizzes. I use the grading strategy of grading all 100 page ones, and then move on to page twos and so on... I know what I'm looking for so I am usually a quick grader and can zip past the answers in no time. And believe me, it gets boring. Reading the 100th same response or at least similar response. Yes, we did a penny lab. We launched a penny (horizontally) off a table and dropped a penny simultaneously and low and behold they land at the same time. Most of my kids remembered every detail from this lab. I even used my phone to recored a video from each class and show it as a follow up. Yup, the projectiles fall at the same time. So, of course, this is a concept I want to assess. Having doubts? Watch this.

In an analysis question the kids had to explain how they knew what they knew with an example from class. Here's one of the responses...

I laughed for 3 minutes, hysterically and have continued to smile and giggle now 3 hours later. Phonics at work, I suppose. This is a 9th grader in their second semester of the year. He's probably close to 15 by now. It's funny as shit and sad as shit at the same time. The thing about my job is that if I don't laugh, I'll cry. I'm just glad that phonetically pennies is penis. 

She's so heavy

What do you think it's like in China, in those factories that are making all of our crap? You can find labels from Bangladesh, Thailand, Indonesia, are those factories the same? Are they scary? If I'm going to pay $250 for a pair of hiking boots made in China, who is getting the money? You really can't make a pair of boots here in the US and keep the cost around $250? The $100 yoga pants thing is so strange, especially since they are probably made in the same factory that $10 Old Navy shirts are made. I can totally see spending $100 on pants, if they were locally made.

I failed in my quest to buy US made stuff today. After getting RUFMITA'ed purchasing my Colorado plates, I headed to REI. I used to work at REI back in 1996, back when it was well known, but a smaller operation and seemingly more down to earth. Today I went in and every shoe, sock, shirt, coat was made in some impoverished 3rd world country. I tried on several boots and then left. That is not unusual for me. I can't just go into a store and buy the first thing I see, I have to think about it. Now, even more since I'm counting my dollars.

So I ran around town, trying to run errands and after having no luck at all with boots, and knowing that I need them for my trip, I headed back to REI. On my return I decided not to get a Sorel type boot and go for the more practical hiking boot that I can wear now, and in the summer. I tried on a boot that felt great, but then decided to try on these...

WOW. Snug around the heel, roomy in the toe box. New technology for cinching the laces. These puppies are awesome. Somebody in China must have stitched and stitched to make these things. I'm sure my feet will feel heavy with guilt as I trudge through the snow covered path. The sad part is that they weren't even China cheap. These sucker cost enough for a decent waged American to stitch up. That's what I don't get...

I am reminded me of this scene in Across the Universe

A budding school

Yesterday the citizens of Colorado decided to vote "no" on increasing property tax to support public schools BUT at the same time the voters decided to say "yes" to a 25% tax on marijuana with the first $40 million in revenue going to pubic school construction projects. Building schools with pot money. Smoke up a new building. Puff Construction. Bong, bang, build. This is quite fun. Welcome to Colorado, where we use drug money profits to pay for new schools. Let's all give thanks to Mary Jane, for she paid for this brand new auditorium.

More like a Juan That Pot Built...

Why Mondays are fantastic days, aren't they

Um, it's 70 degrees in my house right now. That is CHILLY, seriously, I don't like this, at all. I actually considered putting on the heat, but thought I should wait and try not to be such a sissy.

On the way home from school today I heard the radio guy say, "the train wreck that is Blackberry", and I thought about my blog post 2 years ago when I moved to the DR and wanted an iphone but the whole country was out so I had to get a piece of crap blackberry and I got some snide remark as a comment on my blog about being a snotty beatch and now I want to say, HA, told you blackberry was crapberry.

Maybe my bitchiness has caused some karmic issues because I found out that I have a mouth full of problems after my dentist visit. I did pick out some awesome glasses so now, after two years of squinting I can finally see again.

It's not really funny the way this is

And in a snap the heat broke. Thirty degrees broke. I haven't seen mild fall or spring days in years. Damn climate change. We just change back and forth. Cold to hot and then back to cold again. Where did fall go? Are we really going to go from here to snow?

That's ok, we've got a/c and heat. We can keep blasting those emissions up. The climate's changing, burn more coal, the climate's changing, burn more coal, the climate's changing, burn more coal.

Did you know that a petroleum engineer makes 3 times as much as the teacher who taught her all she knows? What kind of nonsensical place do we live in?

I know, let's water our grass while we think about it.

Forget you

I woke up sad, angry and with the realization that time really does heal pain... Winnie died five years ago and until yesterday I had forgot how empty I was, how devastated and lost I felt. Slowly over the past 5 years I have healed and those empty spaces were filled with memories of her and happiness that she was in my life. Well, yesterday, the emptiness struck again. Watching Roxy struggle and be killed has reopened that sad spot that time has healed. The difference, I suppose, is that I know that time will heal again, and my guess is this time it will be faster since I have the experience.

Right under my heart, between my sternum is a black pit. I am nauseous and on auto pilot.

This drama combined with the family visit has brought up some personality traits that I didn't realize were so strong. When chaos hits I retreat. I walk away, find a quiet place by myself and think.

SOOOOOO nice to be back!

So my first interaction in my country was in the Miami immigration line. I walk up and I'm so excited to be speaking English that I just start in with "Hi, how are you?" and he is SUPER friendly and we start chatting :)

Then he says, "hey, here you have some competition with those tattoos" (I was wearing a sleeveless shirt) and he went on to explain that there is a man names "Birdman" that is covered in tattoos.

I replied, "oh, cool, does he work here?"

Now, to most of you, like me that won't be funny, but apparently "Birdman" is a famous tattoo covered NBA player for the Miami Heat and apparently the Heat are in some sort of playoff type thing with basketball.

He just smiled and said, "no, he doesn't work here, he's just some basketball player."

Reverse culture shock is going to take a while!